GOSSIP GIRL: The Upper East Siders
by R. L. D. Igmen
Summary: My own playful account of Gossip Girl based on the TV series.
1. Chapter 1

**GOSSIP GIRL: The Upper East Siders**

I dedicate this story to my ultimate bff, _**Kaye E**_.

And for "_**Henry Duane Montenegro**_", I would never be inspired to write this without you . . .

For these **two**, with all my love, _always . . ._

**I**

_A box of pizza and a hot chocolate_

_Ostroff Treatment Center_

It was my day-off that sunny morning in New York City.

But instead reading Emily Bronte while sipping hot chocolate in Central Park, I was standing here in the 3rd floor of Ostroff Treatment Center—waiting patiently for Mrs. Krantz to finish her conversation with a black nurse in front of a computer; Mrs. Krantz was the owner of the bookstore where I was working.

You must be wondering what the hell I was doing here. No darling she has no plans in putting me here—but merely accompanying her here in one of her weekly visits to his drug-addict son,

After finishing her talk with the nurse, Mrs. Krantz asked me, "Coming with me, RJ?"

I hastily decline the invitation faster than Superman. "I don't think your son will appreciate that you brought a stranger with you. I'll just wait here. Don't worry, I'll be totally fine here," I gestured at the comfortable-looking chair nearby.

She didn't persist and went her way. With a sigh, I sat myself on the sofa. _Great_, I thought to myself dryly, _this is better than Central Park_. I sipped on my chocolate and just about to read the first line of _Wuthering Heights_ when a familiar song caught my attention--it was "Wouldn't It Be Nice" being sung by an unmistakably male voice:

_Wouldn't it be nice if we could wake up  
in the morning when the day is new  
And after having spent the day together  
Hold each other close the whole night through_

I didn't have a difficult time finding the source. It was coming from a room not far from me, the door slightly ajar. Tempted to know who was behind it, I walked to the door and peeked inside. In the room was a blonde-haired guy wearing a brown t-shirt, sitting on an uncarpeted floor. His back rested against the end of the bed, while singing the song of The Beach boys and playing the guitar. He was preoccupied that he didn't notice me.

_Happy times together we've been spending  
I wish that every kiss was never-ending  
wouldn't it be nice_

I crossed my arms on my chest, leaned my left shoulder against the door framed, and listened openly . . . and eventually, sang along:

_Maybe if we think and wish and hope and pray it might come true  
Baby then there wouldn't be a single thing we couldn't do  
we could be married  
and then we'd be happy . . ._

But the next line of the song stacked in my throat when without warning, the blonde stopped singing and playing the guitar at the same time. Did I sing too loud? I asked myself privately as he gazed up at me and sprang to his feet.

First thing that came to my mind: **RUN**. I started to turn around and about to make a step when he spoke in a rush, "Hey, wait! Please . . . _stay_."

It wasn't the words that made me halt but rather his voice. Was it . . . _desperation_?

Reluctantly, I faced him. Our eyes met; mine was questioning, his was pleading. Ignorant in how to deal with the situation I found myself in—yet feeling that I should I explain myself—I said, "I'm so sorry for listening and watching without permission. I know it's wrong but I couldn't help it; it's my favorite song and—"

"It's okay. I didn't mind at all," he said with resignation; I saw his body relaxed deliberately.

It was obvious that he was hesitant to ay the next words, "Actually, I'm kinda . . . _glad_ that someone got attracted to come here . . ."

I noted sadness in his voice that made my brows knitted together. Intrigued, I asked, "Why?"

Instead of answering my question, he went back to the floor, sat Indian-style.

I had a feeling that the answer to my question would lead to a sensitive subject that he refused to answer me, so I didn't push; it wasn't my business.

He pulled a box of pizza beside him; he offered with a smile, "Here have some." As he balanced it on his right hand, I spotted bandages rolled in his wrist. My tongue itched to ask, but I chose to ignore it, remembering my former unanswered question. To further distract myself, I plucked a slice on the box.

He patted the place beside him, indicating where I could sit. Taking a bite, I sat there.

He held out the hand with the bandage, "I'm Eric van der Woodsen."

His hand enveloped mine as I accepted it. "Just call me RJ."

"_RJ_," he echoed, sounded like tasting it in his tongue. "Nice and short. Easy to remember." A smiled lingered in his lips.

His warm smile, the taste of the pizza in my mouth, and its smell comforted me. Everything was so cozy. I decided I could stay here since he seemed harmless—looking at his kind, friendly yet somewhat sad blue eyes. Chatting with this cute blonde named Eric was better than sitting at that couch alone and by myself, waiting for Mrs. Krantz.

"So, obviously, music is your interest," I started, eyeing the guitar.

Eric followed my gaze to the instrument. "Yeah, it keeps me sane here."

I smiled, remembering someone. "You are_ so_ like my best friend Kaye. She extremely loves music. Perhaps you have the same reason in mind."

With his mouth full, Eric asked, "Why? Is she one you are visiting her?"

I laughed a little, realizing the notion my words implied. "No, No. she isn't what you're thinking. I mean, with all the information she was studying and putting in her head, it's so crazy. Music must be keeping her sane."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"Just accompanying someone who has a son her," I said simply.

Eric nodded several times; then he sniffed, "Is _that_ chocolate?"

I looked down to my up. "Yup. Want some?"

Looking slightly amazed, he asked, "You'll share your pizza with a stranger?"

I shrugged. "_You_ didn't mind sharing your pizza with a stranger . . ." I inch the cup closer to him.

The creased on his forehead slowly faded. He reached for the cup, and then sipped on it.

"_Hm_ . . . this tastes really good," he said appreciatively, returning the cup with a grateful smile.

I smiled back, noticing that I could now barely see the sadness in Eric's eyes . . .

**-R-**


	2. Chapter 2

**II**

_who got an invite?_

_Lunch on the steps of the Mets_

"How cute!" Blair Waldorf said, pleased at the box of invitations on her lap. Sitting with her were friends Kati Farkas and Isabel Coates. All three were wearing stylish oats and cute headbands.

"They should be framed or something," said Isabel who was admiring her invitations like Kati.

"Not bad work," Blair said approvingly to Jenny Humphrey as she handed her an invite. "Here's yours, as promise."

"Thanks," Jenny said, beaming as she accepted the invite Blair had promised for her, in return for making the rest of invitation for Blair's Kiss on the Lips party.

Clad in pink coat beside Jenny was Kaye Emerenciana. Standing beside each other in front of Blair and her friends, it was evident they have the same height—5'0''. Kaye has heavy-lidded, dark brown eyes and straight jet black hair just brushing the shoulder.

I was sitting just behind Jenny and Kaye, _Wuthering Heights_ in my hand; but my attention was in this group of girls—observing and listening to them.

Kaye caught Blair's eyes. "I've never seen her before, is she your friend?" she inquired to Jenny.

Jenny was happy and obliged to answer. "Yes she's my friend; and actually living with us. Her uncle, who's a nurse here, is a good friend of my Dad. Since her Uncle saved Dad when he had an accident, my Dad felt indebted. So my father offer our home for Kaye while she's schooling at Constance Billiard—"

"You looked Asian. Or are you Mexican?" Blair asked Kaye, more interested in my friend than Jenny's boring babbling.

Kaye shook her head. "No, I'm not Mexican. I came from the Philippines."

"Why are you here then?" Blair's voce was laced with interest.

"To study; I believe that academics here abroad are more superior than we have in our country. With the help of my uncle, I was able to apply a scholarship here in Constance Billiard. Fortunately, I passed the test."

Blair looked impressed. "And you didn't waste time and flew all the way here . . ."

Kaye smiled. "Precisely."

"Then you must be smart?" Isabel asked bluntly.

Didn't know how to answer this without appearing conceited or proud, Kaye was silent for a moment. And Jenny saw this as an opportunity to intercept, she quickly said, "Actually, Kaye is on the top of our class. Our teachers even said that—"

"Wow, you're . . . brilliant," cut Kati, who spoke for the first time.

"You're like a mini-me then," Blair remarked, her brows lifted together in admiration, her eyes scrutinizing Kaye's face. "I adore your face. Especially your heavy-lidded eyes—very . . . _interesting_. And your hair, you wear it very well . . . I would love to put my hands on you."

"Oh, well, thank you," Kaye said for the obvious compliment. But there was confusion in her eyes, and seemed to be saying: _"What the hell does she mean?"_ referring to Blair's last line.

Unexpectedly, Blair's eyes suddenly turned to my direction. Startled, I immediately put my attention on my book, pretending to read. "What about him? Is he also with you?" I heard Blair asked the two.

Jenny answered, "Yes. Like Kaye, he also lives with us—"

"You have the same skin color . . . " Blair observed to Kaye.

"We came from the same country," Kaye informed her, smiling." He is my bff. He insisted in coming with me; claimed he couldn't live without me."

"So you are . . . inseparable?"

"More or less, yes," Kaye said with a slight laugh in her voice.

"How sweet." Blair smiled. "Bff--_Bestfriends forever. _Just like me and Se—"

Kati and Isabel cleared their throats in unison that cut Blair off; realizing what she was about to say, she quickly changed the subject. "Anyway, Jenny, make her an invite. I like her. Oh, and her guy friend, too. Looks like he has taste in books; _Wuthering Heights_—we both read Bronte." She smiled at Kaye. "I like people with brains and tastes. So pleased be at my party on Saturday."

"Thanks. We would love to attend," Kaye said with a smile; on the other hand, Jenny, just like me, looked utterly shocked. She seemed cannot believe it. Aghast, she told Blair, "I'm sorry Blair. Did you just say I'll make invitations for my . . . _friends_? I—"

"You heard me Jenny," Blair said with finality, her forehead creased. "What's the problem with that?"

Jenny blinked several times, and then shook her head. Quickly, she said, "Nothing."

Jenny's words puzzled me. But before I started to analyze them, a tall, beautiful blonde, approached us. She said something to Blair that hinted me that they are acquainted. Then she turned to Jenny, "Oh. Hi. I'm Serena."

Jenny looked star-struck. "I know, I mean, hi, I'm Jenny."

Blair rolled her eyes heavenward. Because of Jenny or the blonde with the name Serena, I have no idea.

Serena noticed Kaye and me, and she also introduced herself to us.

Jenny said, "They are my friends, Kaye and RJ."

Kaye smiled politely while I nodded in acknowledgement.

As I studied Serena's face, the familiarity of her features struck me. She looked so damn familiar in my eyes. The color of eyes and hair . . . _where did I see those before?_

"So," Serena reached for an envelope beside Blair. "Where's the party?"

Uneasy silence fell. The air was suddenly charged with potent electricity. Everyone seemed waiting for someone to answer. Blair did.

"Saturday," she answered indifferently; then paused a little, contemplating how to say the next words. "And you are kinda not invited."

Serena was stunned, and barely hiding it.

"Since 12 hours ago, everyone thought you're in boarding school," Blair explained. "Now we're fulled. And Jenny used up all the invites."

Jenny tried to counter this. "Am, actually—"

"You can go now," Blair said, dismissing her.

Embarrassed, Jenny lowered her gaze for a second. Then made an apologetic smile for Serena.

I could feel that there was a tension building in the group; Blair and Serena were exchanging cold looks to each other. Sensing trouble, I was more than grateful when Jenny descended the steps; Kaye and I followed her, wanted so badly to get away there.

For the last time, I glanced over my shoulder. My eyes on Serena, _have I seen or met her_ _before?_ I asked myself. Another question was about to pop out of my mind when I was interrupted by my friend, tugging my sleeves.

"Why?"

She looked pointedly on Jenny, who was walking fast and several steps ahead of us—obviously in a bad mood.

We caught up with her and matched her strides. "Problem?" Kaye asked, she was at the left side of Jenny while I was at the latter's right.

Without any preamble, she madly blurted out, "I worked hard for Blair to give me an invite. But the two of you got it _so easily_! I can't believe it! _It's so unfair . . . !_"

Kaye and I glanced at each other, though we were both surprised with Jenny's words, we perfectly understood her reactions, frustrations and envy.

"We won't go if you don't want us to," Kaye said softly in a gentleness a teacher often uses to a three-year-old child.

With a shrug, I said, "I'm not a party-person anyway . . . "

It took a moment before Jenny absorbed what we have said. And when she finally did, she replied in an apologetic tone, "I'm . . . I'm so sorry. I know I acted childishly. Forgive me, it just that I didn't expect that." She met Kaye's eyes.

"That's okay. We understand you," Kaye said, then looked at me, "Right?"

Jenny's eyes turned to me, expecting the same answer. I nodded. "Yeah, that's right. I would react the same if I were in your shoes."

These were enough assurance for Jenny, she said with a smile on her face, "Thanks for being s understanding, guys. Believe me, I appreciate it so much."

"It's nothing." Kaye returned her smile.

I swallowed a yawn. "Yeah, Jenny, it was nothing."

**-R-**


	3. Chapter 3

**III**

a meeting at Bendel's

_712 5th avenue_

Kaye and I arrived at Bendel's at exactly four of the afternoon. We rushed here after receiving from Jenny a text with a big-letter word: **HELP**. The text quite alarmed us that we didn't had a second thought, we immediately hailed the next cab.

We spotted Jenny in front of a full-length mirror with a red dress on. She saw us coming from our reflection in the mirror. "Hey! I'm so glad you both came," she said with a smile on her face.

Catching my breath, I asked, "What's the emergency?"

"A fashion emergency," she corrected. "Does this look good on me or should I try another one?"

My best friend and exchanged looks that say: "_So, this is the emergency? This is what we were rushing about? What a waste of time . . ."_

Jenny snapped her fingers in front of our face. "Hey, guys, wake up! Answer me . . . "

We both studied the dress as jenny twirled several times, showing off the undoubtedly expensive well-cut dress.

"That's perfect," Kaye commented.

"No doubt," I said dryly.

She faced the mirror. "Serena said that this would look good on black," jenny said absently, looking down on the dress, inspecting and memorizing the impeccable details. "But his is expensive. So I decided to sew one."

Kaye was surprised with the knowledge about Serena. "You met Serena here?"

Her eyes met Kaye's on the mirror. "Oh, yes, she's with little brother. A nice-looking guy."


End file.
